Goose Down

My family has always been a feather pillow family. As long as I can remember, my maternal grandma kept everyone well-supplied with pillows. I'm sure she cleaned old pillows and recycled the feathers into new ticking from time to time. Or, maybe, like Bill's grandma, she took her old pillows to the dry cleaners to be cleaned and reticked. Some of her pillows contained fresh feathers or goose down, obtained from a local, northeastern Nebraska farmer, because she did not raise any kind of feather- or down-producing fowl herself.

When I was visiting Mom and Dad last week, I had a chance to go through some old suitcases filled with century-old, family photographs. I enjoyed seeing photos of my mom and grandparents as young children, as well as vintage photos of some great-grandparents I never knew. One photo stood out.

At the turn of the twentieth century, when photography was still in its infancy, it was common for rural Nebraska families to be photographed outside their homes, with their prized possessions arranged around them. The resulting photos were made into postcards, like the one above, and mailed to city-dwelling relatives in an attempt to reassure them that their far-flung family was doing well. 

This photo shows my Great-Grandma Nitz, standing in front of her farm house, surrounded by her geese, which probably provided an important, sustainable income for her. I am sure that the geese were a source of meat for her family, and some of the eggs were sold, as well, but the biggest reason she kept geese undoubtedly had much to do with the down that covered each goose's breast.

You see, geese do not need to be killed in order to harvest their down. After their soft down is plucked, they grow new down in a relatively short time. The white geese were the most desirable, since their down wouldn't show through the ticking as gray goose down might have, but all of the down would have been usable for feather beds, comforters, and pillows.

Most of my family's feather pillows are just that, pillows stuffed with feathers from chickens or ducks. They are quite soft, but occasionally, the shaft of one of those feathers will poke through the ticking and jab an unsuspecting sleeper in the cheek. Down pillows are far superior to feather pillows because they are softer, lighter weight, and free from any protruding feathers.

A few months ago, I decided to replace Bill's feather pillow. He was rather attached to it, but it shed so many feathers every time I changed the pillowcase that I had resorted to applying duct tape to the seams that leaked the most feathers. Since our local, family-run, dry cleaners closed, we no longer have a place to take pillows that need refurbishing, so I finally retired his sorry-looking pillow to the back of a closet shelf, and substituted it with a single pillow I found on another shelf. 

I almost wish I had kept that "new" pillow for myself. My pillow, in the colorful ticking, is heavier than Bill's, not nearly as fluffy and, once in a while, a stray feather stabs me while I'm trying to sleep. Bill's pillow, although nearly the same size as mine, is lighter weight, softer, and fluffier than mine. I'm not sure who gave us that particular pillow, but it is obviously stuffed with premium goose down instead of chicken feathers.

Shhh--don't tell Bill--but when he is out of town, I sleep on his pillow.

Just as making down-filled pillows is a dying art, so is the practice of embroidering pillowcases. We found this set of pillowcases in my Uncle Gary's belongings, but I remember sleeping on them when I stayed at Grandma's house, many years ago. Grandma might have embroidered them herself, or maybe one of my great-grandmothers, or even a great-aunt, embroidered them. I guess I'll never know.

It is in vain that you rise up early
    and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
    for he gives to his beloved sleep.

Psalm 127:2